


Revelation

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-05
Updated: 2001-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Even old guys can learn something new.





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Revelation by Virginia (Virg) Vaughn

More a ficlett than a real story, but here's hoping that this one finally breaks my annoying block.

Title: Revelation  
Writer: Virginia (Virg) Vaughn  
Email/Webpage: , http://www.squidge.org/~virgule/front.html  
Rating: R  
Warnings: None that I can think of besides m/m  
Archive: Anywhere, just spell my name right. Fan fiction should be shared!  
Summary: Even old guys can learn something new.  
Spoilers: None -- I made it up as I went along.  
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner and the entire X-Files universe belongs to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting. But that's only until I'm officially declared Queen of the Universe....  
Notes: For my beloved 'snarker' friends especially Boyd who asked for smut but got this instead. I have ugly comma issues; be very glad my good friend Noon agreed to beta.

* * *

"I'm so sorry."

I hated saying those words to him. It was enough that his life had been filled so much disappointment, so many dead ends. I'm no fool; I could see the light in those fever bright eyes flicker and then extinguish. But what else could I do? I'm almost fifty years old and even in my wild and woolly youth I never had any need to play those kinds of games.

I couldn't help stopping him as he turned and fled for the door. He'd come to me so hopeful, so sad, soaking wet in his standard G-man issue trench. My hand settled on his arm and so help me his flesh under the wet sleeve was so warm it felt as if it might vaporize the water droplets clinging to the fabric.

Fever? Could be. His color was high under that pale ivory skin. As if it had a mind of its own, my hand brushed across his damp cheek. Much more tenderly than I intended. The whisker stubble prickled, unfamiliar yet somehow right. 

He was warm. Warm due to the embarrassment, the humiliation he must be feeling? Warm because it was the night after the end of a grueling ten-day case, where leads were slim and sleep a rarity? A case that had Fox so deeply inhumed in the killer's twisted psyche that Scully begged me to remove him before he suffered a breakdown. A request I was forced to refuse. How could I? The murderer was still on the loose and escalating the frequency and number of his kills. So I had to push, I had to let the boy struggle through until it was done, until it had almost consumed him.

Poor Fox looked as if a strong wind could destroy him. Was the comfort I tried to offer in my guilt for pushing him misinterpreted? Had I unknowingly given him the wrong idea? If so, it was now up to me to make things right and to try to take away the sting and the harshness of my denial.

Taking the sodden coat off his shoulders, I led him into the living room. Ignoring the stiffness of his limbs, the rigidity of his posture, I sat him on the couch. As my one nod to comfort in the too empty room, it was practically decadent, soft and oversized and covered with a warm brown velvet. Sitting in the middle of it, Mulder looked lost and about fourteen years old. I handed him a drink. He wouldn't meet my eyes, just flinched almost imperceptibly when our fingers touched around the glass. I couldn't meet his eyes either as I rubbed my suddenly sensitized fingertips down the leg of my pants.

Picking up my own glass of scotch, I sat down next to him. A little closer than I normally would, but his silence his bowed head, his stillness worried me. Where were the wise cracks, the frenetic fidgeting that marked his normal state? Why did the lack bother me so?

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to be nice to me. Just let me go."

"Is it so unreasonable that I want to be kind? I don't want to hurt you."

His voice hitched on what was nearly a sob. "I'm okay. You didn't. Please, just let me go."

I needed to see his face; I needed to look into his eyes. It wasn't the manly thing to do. Maybe I thought at the time that it was the fatherly thing. I don't know. Reaching out, I grasped his chin, and turned his head. Right away, I wished I hadn't. There was too much sadness there, too much loss, and under it all was shame.

And then it hit me. He had been so very brave. He had surrendered everything for me. To me. And I had thrown that back at him. Not in cruelty, but in pompous, over kind-words that had done worse than wound him. I had shamed him.

The heartlessness of it, of what I had done, undid me. Without thinking I pulled him gently into my arms and against my chest. Why? Did I think that token of kindness, an innocent hug would cure the grief I had wrought?

The rigidity of his posture crumbled. It felt as if he had suddenly become boneless as he melted into my body, fitting tightly against me in a way that no other human being ever had before. His breath on my skin where his face was buried against my neck was like fire. I was being burned, consumed and refashioned. The burning spread like a virus from one skin cell to the next until my entire body was aflame. And most of the liquid inferno was centered squarely in my groin.

Christ above. How can a man know himself so well, and yet so little?

I pushed him away, not far, just enough to look at his face again. To look into those eyes. He kept them closed until I shook him, gently prompting. Then his lids lifted and connection was made. What he saw in mine I don't know, but his pupils dilated and I swear for a second his features were lit from within like a goddamned Christmas ornament.

Kisses. I never knew about kisses. They were the thing you did with women, because they liked it, demanded it. It made them pliable and pliant and willing to spread their legs. This wasn't a kiss; it was diving into a wet dream. The kind where you come so hard your balls feel like they are trying to climb out of your throat.

Frantic, growling, animal noises were distracting me, but I couldn't take time to think about them, I was too busy pulling myself free of the clothing that was constricting me, keeping me from touching every inch of the debauched focus of my every desire.

Did Fox help me undress myself, himself? I'm not sure. About the time I realized those sounds were coming from me, 'silent' Walter, we were both naked and I stopped thinking about anything. I couldn't get enough of him. The smell of him, the feel of him. I lay over him and rubbed my entire body against his trying to absorb his essence into my skin, drawing him in through my very pores.

Did it take an hour or an instant to come? Whichever, it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of rigidly thinking myself one thing and then discovering that I was something else entirely. An instant where the stodgy, middle-aged bureaucrat died, frozen and shattered, blown away like so much dust, leaving behind the core of who I really am.

And I'm never going to be sorry again.

~~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~~

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." - Anais Nin  
http://www.squidge.org/~virgule/

The Thin Blue Line Sentinel Slash Ezine: http://www.squidge.org/~kali/tbl/

  
Archived: 

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